


I Need You

by mydivisionisfangirling



Series: Songs and Injuires [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Lots of Mycroft, M/M, No Character Death, Some Fluff, Song - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-03
Updated: 2014-05-03
Packaged: 2018-01-21 18:24:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1559762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydivisionisfangirling/pseuds/mydivisionisfangirling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Greg is hurt, Mycroft blames him not being attentive. He realsies just how much he needs him whilst he waits for Greg to wake up. Inspiration from A Great Big World - Say Something. Pre-Slash and fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Need You

_Say something, I'm giving up on you_

Sat in a dark hospital room with random bleeps going off all around him, Mycroft Holmes had never had less faith in Decretive Inspector Greg Lestrade. The DI was lay in an uncomfortable, standard hospital bed and he was completely unconscious after having been shot and falling out of a flat window into the waiting bins. He had assistance to breath and there was very little normal colour skin available. The doctors had explicitly said that it would be a rough night and if he was to make it though he would have a good chance. Mycroft had found hope from this, until the crash team had come in the first time. When the chest drain was added Mycroft couldn’t help but lose the faith he was holding onto. He sat in the plastic chairs provided and just prayed to whoever was listening for the sun to rise.

_I'll be the one, if you want me to_

As he waited, Mycroft – being Mycroft - over thought every encounter between Gregory and himself. They weren’t an item per say but they were in a stage where if the other was to be asked out, they’d decline. A series of ‘dates’ that had started off as updates on Sherlock lead them to weekly meals, sometimes as houses other at fancy restaurants. There had been chaste kisses on the cheek, squeezes of hand in supports but nothing more. Mycroft desperately wanted more though, wanted Gregory to be there when he got home from a tiring day at work or to support him on danger nights. Really, he just wanted Greg to be his. He’d vowed to himself to tell Greg just as soon as he got better how he felt and he just hoped he’d be met with a similar message, if that’s what Greg wanted.

_Anywhere I would've followed you_

Of all the survalience I have. Of all the streets I have covered and all my teams watching the footage this still happens. How? How on earth was this missed! If only I had been in my office instead of calming down politicians with the minds of children. I would have seen it! Could have stopped it....well could have at least sent back up...even an ambulance. I would have followed him like a hawk, like usual, even if he’s not with Sherlock. He wouldn’t be in this state now if I had. I should have, I would’ve. This all could have been stopped. Mycroft’s internal conflict had been going on since 4 hours ago when he got a message he wished to never hear 30 minutes too late. If he’d just been told, he had so much intelligence on that area; he could have followed the cameras. He could have done something rather than feeling so helpless. 

_Say something, I'm giving up on you_

‘Please Gregory, please wake up’ Mycroft pleaded in hour 5. He just needed a sign, a sign he would be okay. ‘Just acknowledge me, I don’t care how, say anything, just please say something’ he pleaded. That was not something a mastermind like Mycroft Holmes did. He had only begged once in his life and that was so his little brother would get help for his addiction. Then again, Greg Lestrade got Mycroft to do a lot of things he wouldn’t usually such as frequenting local pubs or eating greasy food out of paper. 

_And I am feeling so small_

Mycroft was curled up in the chair next to Greg’s bed. With his knees pressed under his chin, he was able to make the pain in his chest stop. He had thought of his life with Gregory so many times, so many different versions. The country, the city, with a dog, with a cat, with a child or with a fish if that’s all he wanted. The clear possibility he may never even propose it to him gave the feeling that his heart was tearing in two. Mycroft was a powerful man who stood tall every day but now he was helpless and he had never felt so small.

_It was over my head_

Hour six found Mycroft angry at himself again. He began pacing and muttering obscenities under his breath in a medley of languages. He cursed himself, politicians, his team, the bloody criminal with the gun and anyone else he could place any responsibilities onto that he didn’t know what was going on. It was an hour full of swearing and anger but at least it stopped the pain.

_I know nothing at all_

of all the things he’d committed to memory; he knew nothing of medical terminology. A nurse and doctor came in hour 7. He pretended to be asleep in order to get accurate information rather than the rubbish they fed to relatives. They were mumbling about hematomas and a pneumothorax but Mycroft couldn’t understand a word of what they were saying. There were lots of ‘better’ and ‘reduced risk’ so that gave him some comfort but a reduction in a serious condition, was still serious.

_And I will stumble and fall, I'm still learning to love, just starting to crawl_

‘Gregory, I’m not sure if you can hear me but just encase you can, I have some things to say. I’ve...er..I’ve never been good at relationships but, I’m an exceptionally fast learner and I can assure I will try my best to learn how to be a good...partner to you. I feel our meet...dates have been successful so far, I was late a few times but you seemed to understand. I’m not saying there won’t be other issues, I’m sure I’ll mess up more times than not but...if you could just let us try...I feel it would be mutually beneficial.’ Getting that off his chest was a relief but he just felt silly talking to someone who probably can’t hear him.

_Say something, I'm giving up on you, I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you_

He knew he’d been beating himself up but there was still guilt in his gut that he couldn’t rid. He should have been there, Greg shouldn’t be lay hooked up to all these machines. They should be at Greg’s enjoying beef wellington, wine and a film. Of course when something came up at work and Mycroft had cancelled, Greg took an extra shift. This wasn’t the DI’s case and it was Mycroft’s fault he was there. If only Mycroft had been able to get to his for dinner.

_And I will swallow my pride_

Hour nine was tears. Mycroft Holmes didn’t cry but he was exhausted, riddled by images of Greg on the pavement and for the first time he was overwhelmed. He didn’t realise he was crying until tears splashed on the hand of Greg’s he was holding. Then it was all silent sobs as he thought of all he could have done, all they could have done but instead they were in a public hospital room as it was too dangerous to transfer him. All of the control and pride Mycroft had about conducting himself in public was gone and he let himself cry out of fear for Gregory. Mycroft Holmes was scared.

_You're the one that I love_

It took until hour 10 for Mycroft to realise it was love. Love was the reason he was here, the reason he was angry, the reason he cried and the reason any time a noise made a machine he was filled with fear.  
‘I love you Gregory, please say something’

‘....My....’ the voice was faint, croaky but it came from Greg. Mycroft took the hand he’d placed on the bed and kept his eyes transfixed on the battered face.  
‘Gregory, do take it carefully. Try and open your eyes first, it’s dark in here don’t worry about hurting your head further.’ Mycroft coaxed gently. Slowly but surely Greg’s eyes opened and instantly locked onto the dishevelled British Government. They looked into each other’s eyes whilst Greg got his bearings before the DI tried to speak again.  
‘Myc....’ he struggled before mumbling again.  
‘Ssh Gregory, do not strain yourself, you’re okay. Just take it easy he hushed, his fingers were running through the silver locks before he realised.  
Greg looked determined though; there was clearly something he wanted to say. He took as deep of a breath as he could with his broken ribs and whispered what he’d been waiting to say for years.  
‘Myc...’uv you too’ was all he got out before he softly smiled and fell back to a hazy sleep, the effort of getting that out too much for his tired body.   
Mycroft got over his shock faster than expected, he continued to run his fingers through Greg’s head in a soothing motion and whispered softly into his forehead ‘I know Gregory, I always have. I just didn’t know I did. Sleep now, I’m not going anywhere, ever.’ And he meant it.


End file.
